


Walking After Midnight

by cyberleviathan



Category: Happy Days
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberleviathan/pseuds/cyberleviathan
Summary: College student Richie Cunningham is rooming with his older brother Chuck, until Chuck unexpectedly goes missing. Richie’s investigations into the disappearances on campus may have a connection to his new roommate, the enigmatic Fonz.(Or, the ridiculous and self-indulgent Carmilla the Series AU that nobody but me asked for.)





	1. Chapter 1

Richie Cunningham woke up on the floor, leaning against his bed, as if he had thrown himself in the bed’s general direction and almost missed.

He managed to stand up despite the fact that his head felt like it was being pelted by bricks from inside. Thankfully, the lights were off and the curtains had been drawn, and the only source of light was Richie’s digital clock, dimly blinking 11:47.

Last night was...hazy. Chuck had convinced - well, begged - him to come to a party the basketball team was throwing instead of working on his journalism project. Everything was blurry after that - Richie had a vague recollection of doing body shots off of one of Chuck’s teammates and having to be dragged back to his dorm.

He stumbled towards Chuck’s bed, holding out his arms for balance and trying not to bump into anything. And then he stepped in something sticky. He looked down to see a small puddle of red on the floor. It trailed right up to Chuck’s bed.

Richie slowly approached the bed. “Chuck?”

When there was no response. Richie pulled back the covers.

Chuck wasn’t there.

Richie exhaled in relief. Chuck probably went home with someone. He was probably fine.

But that didn’t explain the blood.

A sheet of paper was poking out from underneath the bed. Richie snatched it up and squinted to read it in the darkness.

_We regret to inform you your roommate is no longer attending the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. You will be assigned a new roommate within the next week._

It was signed by the dean of students.

——

After turning the lights on, getting dressed, and debating whether or not to wash off the blood (this probably technically counted as a crime scene of some sort, right?) and finally deciding not to, Richie called up student affairs on the landline and was immediately put on hold. He called up Chuck’s cell phone number and was immediately put on hold.

_“Hi, this is Chuck! I can’t come to the phone right now, probably because I’m shooting hoops - like this one!”_

Then his own voice. _“Chuck, it’s a voicemail, they can’t see you -“_

Then the tone.

“Chuck? It’s Richie. Call me as soon as you get this.”

Richie would have said more, but the landline rang, and he scrambled to pick it up.

“Student affairs,” a bored sounding woman drawled.

“This is Richie Cunningham. I called about Chuck earlier -“

“You’re the one who needs a new roommate.”

Richie laughed uncomfortably. “No, I - I have a roommate. He’s my brother and he’s missing and someone left a note saying he doesn’t go here anymore.”

“If he’s missing, you need a new roommate.”

“He wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

“You said something about a note.”

“It’s a form letter from the dean of students. All it says is that Chuck doesn't go here anymore.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Can I speak to the dean of students?”

The other end was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, there was a tremor in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “That - that’s not a good idea.”

“But -“

“Look, I’m sorry about your brother, but there’s no need to do anything drastic.”

Before Richie could say anything else, the line went dead.

——

If the administration wasn’t going to help, Richie would find Chuck on his own. And if he couldn’t remember what had happened last night, he’d find someone who did.

The dining hall was still decorated for Halloween when Richie got there. Somehow, that made everything less creepy. It was hard to be nervous surrounded by paper cut outs of witches, bats, and for whatever reason, Easter eggs. Potsie Weber and Ralph Malph were already there, sitting at a table with a construction paper pumpkin centerpiece. Potsie waved Richie over

“We didn’t think we’d see you up and about after last night,” Ralph said with a grin and a mock-punch to Richie’s shoulder.

“Let’s just say I had an unpleasant wake-up call,” Richie said. “Did either of you see what happened to Chuck last night?”

Potsie and Ralph exchanged confused looks. “Wasn’t he with you?” Potsie asked.

“He was,” Richie replied. “But when I woke up, he was gone, he’s not answering his phone, and someone left a note that says that he’s not a student anymore.”

Potsie patted Richie on the shoulder. “You’re getting worked up over nothing. He’ll probably come back soon. The others did.”

Richie froze. “Others? There have been other disappearances on campus?”

“A couple. You know Carmine Ragusa? I’m his understudy in The Music Man. A week ago, he disappeared, and I was going to go on for him. But then on opening night, he showed up again.” Potsie frowned. “I think I knew the blocking better than he did.”

Richie stood up.

“Potsie, tell Carmine to meet me as soon as he can. I’m going to find out how many others have gone missing.”

——

Richie returned to his dorm room, still nervous but at least more determined now. He’d get his tape recorder, he’d question the people who went missing, and he’d find Chuck. Everything was going to work out fine, he told himself as he slid his key into the door.

He abruptly stopped when he realized the door was already unlocked.

Richie inhaled sharply and stepped back without opening the door. Someone was waiting inside for him, and so soon after Chuck vanished, it seemed more likely than not that they had something to do with it.

He heard footsteps from inside. Richie slipped his bag down and pulled out a textbook. He stepped back as the door opened and threw the textbook right into the face of the person opening it. Unexpectedly, he caught it right before it could make contact with his face.

He looked like something out of an Eisenhower-era movie about juvenile delinquents: black leather jacket, perfectly coiffed ducktail, really...unfairly tight jeans. He handed Richie his textbook with an unreadable expression, then snapped his fingers. A blonde girl wearing a Suedes jacket poked her head through the door.

“Bertie, why don’t you go pick up your dry cleaning?”

Bertie pecked him on the cheek and flounced away with a “Bye, Fonzie.”

Richie glanced at her as she left, then back at the now-empty doorframe. He entered his room to see Fonzie already sitting on Chuck’s comforter and looking at Richie.

“What are you doing on Chuck’s bed?”

“I believe it’s my bed,” Fonzie replied.

Richie gestured at the sheets, which was decorated with little basketballs. “So that’s yours?”

That got a reaction. Fonzie glared at him, got off the bed and looped an arm around Richie so they were eye to eye. He was a bit shorter than Richie, something that might have amused him under any other circumstances.

“Obviously not. I was gonna move my stuff in, but I was...distracted.”

“Don’t bother,” Richie said, stepping out of Fonzie’s reach. “You’re not going to be here for very long.”

Fonzie didn’t respond beyond a minuscule eyebrow raise. He didn’t take his eyes off Richie, either, as Richie grabbed his tape recorder and left the room, feeling more shaken than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

They settled into a routine surprisingly quickly. Richie would leave for classes and come back in the evening. Fonzie would already be there, with...company. Richie would ignore them for as long as he could and look into the disappearances. Inevitably, he would end up taking his pillow out into the hallway and falling asleep out there.

On the third morning, before he left, Richie told Fonzie “I’m bringing someone over tonight.”

Fonzie looked at him approvingly.

“No, not like that. I’m - interviewing him. For an assignment. And I promised him we’d be alone. And you have a pretty...active social life, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t bring anyone here tonight.”

Fonzie didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be considering it. After a moment, he nodded.

“Thanks,” Richie said as he left. “I really appreciate it!”

Fonzie didn’t look at him as he left.

——

When Richie got back, Fonzie was already there, sitting on his bed (no, Chuck’s bed, Richie corrected himself) and reading an issue of Popular Mechanics.

He looked up as Richie entered and acknowledged him with a small nod.

Richie slid his bag over the back of his chair, deliberately avoiding looking at Fonzie. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” he admitted.

“You said not to bring anyone here. You didn’t say anything about bringing myself.”

Richie laughed a little. Fonzie looked like he didn’t know what to make of that, but the knock on the door meant that Richie wasn’t going to dwell on what that meant.

He opened the door to see a big, broad guy wearing sweats, but any intimidation factor he might have had was diminished by how he spun into the room.

“I missed two days of rehearsal, so I’m a little stuck on the choreography,” he explained as he sashayed across the room.

He stopped when he caught sight of Fonzie, looking at him with an expression of half-recognition. Fonzie looked over the magazine at him, and Carmine backed away, sitting down on Richie’s bed.

“If you’re not comfortable discussing this here -“

“It’s fine,” Carmine said. “It’s just - not something I’m used to talking about. My ex-girlfriend was hosting a floor party. She convinced me to come and bring some of my theater friends. The last thing I remember is showing up and - and then the next thing I know, it’s the morning and everyone says I’ve been gone for two days. That’s all I remember.”

He glanced at Fonzie again, quickly enough that Richie almost thought he imagined it.

“Did anything happen before that? Anything strange at all?”

Another glance in Fonzie’s direction.

“I was - having these dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“I’m in this - this chamber. It’s too dark to see anything, and then suddenly, there’s this light in the middle of the room. It’s getting bigger and bigger, and any moment now it’s - it’s going to swallow me whole.”

Fonzie chuckled.

Richie glared at him, not that Fonzie noticed. “Do you have something to add?”

Fonzie didn’t look up.

“That’s all I remember,” Carmine said, standing up. “I, uh, have rehearsal soon. If anything comes up, I’ll call you.”

As the door shut, Fonzie looked at Richie for the first time since Carmine had showed up.

“I turned down a night with the Aloha Pussycats so you could hear Gene Kelly talk about his dreams.”

Richie inhaled and exhaled. His only lead had just turned out to be a bust, and he was no closer to finding Chuck than the day he disappeared.

He picked up his bag. “Well, you can go right ahead. I’m going to Ralph and Potsie’s.”

——

The next day, Fonzie wasn’t in the room when Richie got back from class, much to Potsie and Ralph’s dismay. They had insisted on joining Richie for what Ralph deemed “moral support.” Richie suspected it had more to do with them wanting to see if Fonzie really did bring home a different girl every night.

Fonzie’s side of the room still looked like Chuck’s, for the most part. He had taken off the basketball sheets, hung up a James Dean poster, and brought in a filing cabinet.

“I thought you were joking about the filing cabinet,” Potsie remarked.

“Wait, why did he bring in a filing cabinet?” Ralph asked.

“He says it’s his address book.”

Potsie and Ralph exchanged a look before bounding towards the filing cabinet. Ralph pulled open the top drawer, and Potsie, after realizing that opening the second drawer wasn’t really an option with the first drawer open, went for the one on the bottom.

“It’s even alphabetized!” Ralph noted gleefully as he went through it.

“He’s got a lot of combs,” Potsie commented from the floor. “They’re labeled with the days of the week and everything.”

“Come on, guys,” Richie said. “Don’t -“

“He’s got triplets in here!” Ralph said delightedly.

Richie paused and came closer to look. “Triplets? Really?”

Potsie tried to stand up and bumped his head on the drawer. He was holding a slightly dented silver flask.

“Hey, what do you think’s in here?”

Richie took the flask from Potsie and shook it. Whatever it was, it was full. He unscrewed the cap and took an experimental sip, and immediately regretted it. It was warm and salty and metallic, and he spat blood out onto the floor.

He wiped at his lips with his free hand and coughed, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

“Talk about blood alcohol content,” Ralph said, before laughing uncomfortably.


	3. Chapter 3

Ten minutes later, Shirley Feeney (official floor don) and Laverne DeFazio (unofficial floor don) were in Richie’s room, looking at the flask and exchanging hushed words every so often.

Potsie and Ralph were seated on Richie’s bed, while Richie was leaning against his desk. Every so often, he leaned over and tried to hear what Laverne and Shirley were saying, and they would stop whispering and glare at him until he leaned back.

After several minutes of this, Shirley informed them “There’s no rules against having blood in the dorms.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s never come up before,” Laverne said with a shrug.

“Shouldn’t this be enough to get him kicked out or something?”

”It should, but it isn’t,” Shirley said. “Talk it over with your roommate, see if he had a good reason -“

Laverne interrupted with “What possible reason could he have for having blood in a flask -“

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m suggesting he ask -“

“Maybe we could escape through the window,” Potsie whispered.

“We’re two floors up,” Ralph whispered back. “Think we could make it down the tree?”

“What?”

“I said, THINK WE COULD MAKE IT DOWN -“

“Alright, cool it!”

He hadn’t even said it that loudly, but everyone stopped talking and looked at him.

Fonzie stood in the doorway, a petite dark-haired girl hanging off of him. He walked in and gestured at the girl on his arm. “Doris is only in town for the night, and it is my duty as a good citizen to show her a good time. Now, I can’t do that with all of you here.”

“Yeah, it’s really annoying when strangers show up in your room and won’t leave,” Richie replied.

Fonzie didn’t hear him. Or he was ignoring Richie. Yeah, that seemed more likely.

“Laverne and I are here because your roommate logged a complaint,” Shirley explained.

“He ran into our room screaming about blood, so we followed him back here,” Laverne corrected.

“I wasn’t screaming,” Richie protested.

Fonzie snapped his fingers and gestured at the door. “Cunningham, conference. Now.”

Richie glanced at everyone else in the room in confusion. Fonzie rolled his eyes and approached Richie, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and pulled him out of the room, into the hallway.

He let go of Richie to close the door, then leaned against the wall. He looked at Richie expectantly and grabbed the front of his shirt, and Richie froze up.

He managed to screw up his courage and say in the calmest voice he could manage “I found the flask. The flask of blood.”

Fonzie showed no signs of surprise. “So you ratted me out?”

Richie opened his mouth to say that no, he hadn’t, but then immediately closed it, because he had.

Fonzie apparently took his silence as confirmation, because he continued. “It’s corn syrup and red dye. I was saving it for a special occasion.” He shook his head. “I should’ve seen this coming. Guys like you can’t leave well enough alone.”

Richie shifted his stance a little. “What do you mean, guys like me?”

Fonzie gestured vaguely with a hand. “Pat Boone, Dick Clark, you know, squares. Middle-class, establishment types who like to make up problems to solve to distract themselves.”  
Richie’s eyes widened. “My brother is missing, and you think I’m making problems up?”

“I think you’re looking for answers where there aren’t any. Because there’s nothing you can do, and you know it, so you’re chasing down dancing amnesiacs to distract yourself.”  
He let go of Richie’s shirt and turned towards the door.

Richie slumped against the wall. He wasn’t wrong. Chuck was still gone, and everything Richie had done had been a waste of time.

“You’re right,” Richie admitted.

Fonzie stopped, and turned back to look at Richie. He had to admit, the momentary flash of surprise in Fonzie’s eyes almost made it worth it.

“I shouldn’t have gone through your things,” Richie continued. “That was wrong, and I’m sorry.

“But I’m not giving up. My brother is missing. It’s happened before, and it could happen again. And I’m not going to let them down. When I got my acceptance letter, my dad took me aside and asked me to look out for Chuck, and I promised him that I would. And if I just - just gave up, then I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, or my mom, or Joanie, or, heck, at myself. Even if that does make me a - a square or a nerd or Pat Boone.”

Fonzie didn’t have a response to that. He just kept looking at Richie, with an odd, almost curious expression.

Richie pushed the door open. “Everything’s been worked out. It was a misunderstanding. So you can all leave now. Except you, Doris.”

Laverne huffed loudly and pushed past Richie. “Finally.”

Shirley was right behind her, though she approached Fonzie to tell him “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, mister,” before Laverne dragged her away.

Potsie and Ralph followed them out; Ralph avoiding looking at anyone, and Potsie briefly looking at Richie with a plaintive look in his eyes as if to say “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Richie turned back to Fonzie. “You can go ahead and welcome Doris now.”

Fonzie kept staring at Richie, with that same curious look. Richie didn’t have time to dwell on that, so he turned around and left, intending to catch up with Potsie and Ralph, trying to ignore the feel of Fonzie’s eyes on his back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel now would be a good time to mention that this is not an even remotely accurate depiction of the University of Milwaukee, and I apologize to any alumni reading this.

For the second night in a row, Richie was sleeping on Potsie and Ralph’s floor. It was preferable to sleeping in the hallway, but not by much. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, Richie had settled for lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t fall asleep, but exhaustion won out and he had drifted into a sort of drowsy stupor.

He had meant what he said two days ago. He had continued trying to find something, anything about the disappearances. He’d talked to Chuck’s friends, teammates, and teachers, and come up with nothing. Nobody on the basketball team had seen him after the party, and Chuck’s professors had said he never showed up to class anyway.

Richie had only gone back to his room here and there, to get clothes or things for class. Fonzie hadn’t been there any of those times, and Richie felt oddly disappointed by that.  
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, and he sat up to answer it.

A slightly frantic voice on the other end asked “Richie?”

“Carmine?” He rubbed at his eyes. “How’d you get my number? Did Potsie give it to you?”

“He was there.”

“Potsie?”

“No, your roommate. He was at the party.”

Richie sat up, eyes wide in shock. “You’re remembering what happened?”

“Bits and pieces. Everything’s getting all mixed up, I - I can’t sleep, I can’t eat -“

“Carmine, Carmine, just calm down -“

“It’s calling me.”

Richie froze.

“What’s calling you?”

”The light. The light is calling me and I can’t -“

“The light from your dreams?”

“I see it every time I close my eyes. It wants me to go in and I don’t know how much longer I can -“

“Carmine,” Richie said. “Carmine, stay where you are. Where are you?”

“I’m outside the Ganz building. I couldn’t stay inside anymore.”

“I’ll be right there. Just stay calm.”

——

Richie put on pants and a sweater over his pajama shirt and ran out. It was nearly pitch black outside, but Richie felt confident that he knew the campus like the back of his hand.

In retrospect, that may have been why he ran right into someone.

He stumbled back right as the other person did. Richie had to squint to see what he could of her in what little moonlight there was. He could make out blonde hair and a Suedes jacket, and the outline of someone else in the darkness.

Richie managed to get out a “Sorry!” before starting to run again.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be out here alone,” one of the girls shouted after him. “It’s why the Suedes started a buddy system.”

Richie stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. “Buddy system?”

“Yeah. It’s just a safety measure we decided on after one of our girls went missing.”

Richie’s stomach churned. Fonzie had been with a Suede the day he’d moved into Richie’s room, hadn’t he?

“Bertie?” he asked.

One of the Suedes gasped. The other one - the one he could sort-of see - looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“How did you know?”

“I’m looking into the disappearances. I have to meet with someone right now, but - look for Richie Cunningham tomorrow and we can talk it over!” he shouted as he ran off, leaving both Suedes alone and baffled in the dark.

——

Richie circled the Ganz building three times. He didn’t find Carmine, but he did almost trip over a raccoon at one point. After that, he decided he would be better off waiting for Carmine in one spot. He sat down on the building steps and waited.

Out of the corner of his eye, Richie thought he saw someone. He turned to get a better look, and only saw what looked like rapidly dissipating black smoke.

Nobody was there. Richie propped his head up with a hand and tried not to fall asleep.

Something tapped him on the shoulder. Richie awoke with a start, narrowly avoiding falling off the steps. He looked up to see Fonzie there, leaning against a brick wall and staring at Richie. He looked comfortable and natural like this, dark hair and black jacket not-quite blending into the shadows, eyes practically glowing in the dark as they bored into Richie.

Richie realized he was staring.

Play it cool. He had to play it cool. He didn’t know for sure if Fonzie was involved the kidnappings, and if he was, he couldn’t let him know that Richie knew. He forced himself to say something, anything.

“I...wasn’t expecting you here.”

Fonzie shrugged. “I asked around. Potsie thought you’d be up here.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Hadn’t seen you for two days.”

“Sorry to worry you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Fonzie said, sounding mortally offended. “I just don’t want to get a roommate who’s even more of a nerd.”

Richie laughed, even though he suspected he was probably the butt of the joke. Maybe it was just exhaustion or stress, but it felt good after days of nothing but desperation and helplessness.

Fonzie didn’t move. He stayed against the wall, staring at Richie. Was Fonzie waiting for him?  
“I’m just going to stay here,” Richie explained. “In case Carmine shows up.”

Fonzie shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He turned to leave, only to turn back around with a snap of his fingers.

“Cunningham?”

He walked over and tugged on Richie’s collar, fingers lightly brushing against his neck.

“Cute jammies.”


End file.
